Page 126 of Cursed

“What the fuck—” I choked out.

“Careful,” Bastian drawled as he sauntered toward us and pulled the knife from the target.

Valen glared at his younger brother and reached for my elbow, but I shook him off.

Titus stood at the opposite end of the room near a table covered in weapons.

Shelves holding a myriad of aged books, worn scrolls, and odd relics lined the stone walls. A fireplace crackled in the corner, and the room was warm and comfortable even though there was an unsettling energy that clung to the stones.

“There’s a table over here,” Valen said. He gestured toward a large ornate table strewn with scrolls and arcane instruments.

The whispering in my mind grew louder as I set the grimoire on the table and sank into the chair Valen pulled out for me. I traced my fingers over its wicked clasp and held my breath as my nails clicked over the red stones embedded in the grimoire’s cover.

I hesitated—there was something about laying it bare in this room that felt like exposing a secret to an enemy.

What would they do when they saw how much I had already learned from these cursed pages?

THUNK!

Another blade quivered in the target.

“Your aim is off,” Bastian’s lilting voice floated through the room, playful yet laced with menace as he crossed the room to retrieve the knife. I couldn’t help but glance up as he stood in front of the target with the large knife in his hands. His blonde hair caught the strange light from the sconces. Titus moved smoothly, and before I could call out a warning, he had loosed another blade toward the target.

THWACK!

Bastian didn’t flinch.

“Close enough,” he said with a shrug. He twisted to grab hold of the hilt and pulled the blade from the wood. “Mine was still better.”

Titus said nothing, but his dark eyes flickered to me.

Did he suspect something?

“Are you two just going to stand there?” Valen asked. “Or—”

“Or what?” Bastian retorted. “Are you asking for our help?”

“You promised,” Valen reminded him.

Bastian grunted and walked across the room to set the knives back with the others. “Did we?”

“We did,” Titus growled.

He grabbed Bastian’s shoulder and steered him toward the table.

“Draw the blade,” Valen said.

My jaw tightened as I did as he asked. The blackened silver dagger glinted in the strange light that filled the room as Bastian and Titus reached the table.

Bastian shrugged out of his jacket and flung it over a nearby chair. He held out his hand, palm up, toward me and nudged Titus. “Come on, you too.”

Titus grimaced, but offered his hand. Valen followed.

“All— all three?”

Bastian’s grin was wolfish. “That’s how we like it,” he said.

Valen chuckled, but Titus’ dark eyes burned into mine.

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